


hang about and burn my fingers

by ironoxide



Category: Trainspotting (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10323542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironoxide/pseuds/ironoxide
Summary: an exercise in being trans in 90s scotland.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'll die for this headcanon. I Tried following welsh's style, with an attempt at authentic scottish slang...
> 
> probably gonna jump about in time frames because i've seen t2 twice now and i wanna go see it again this weekend. anyway!!!!!!

Sick Boy's been nebbin on about fuck-all wi an alarming level of cognizance fer someone so pished, n maybe at the beginning ah'd been tryin tae listen but ah couldnae concentrate oan him ower the sound of ma own breathin like a fuckin iron lung in ma ears, n so ah jus started sittin here oan ma erse n lettin the words go through me. Ah tune back in n he's wanking poetic about a lassie he seen at the club, cos some punter bumped intae her n she goat her cocktail all over her shirt, n she just went oan talkin like it didnae bother her that every cunt in a ten mile radius was starin at her tits through the fabric. He couldnae decide, he tells me, if it was that she genuinely didnae catch on tae the circumstances, or if it was that she knew and didnae give a toss. Either way, he tells me: delectable, the hoor was. The slut. Delectable.

He looks ower at me now, though, n he's goat a funny expression oan his coupon. Ah find it hard tae parse the way he's lookin at us, cos tae ma recollection nothin close tae this has ever crossed his face for the length of a fart, nivir mind stickin around til the smell's gone.

— What? ah sais, irritable.

He's lookin fer the right words. Ah can see the cogs turnin. So ah decide tae give him a minute, so as not tae scare him off. Eventually he's given it enough thought. — D'ye find it offensive, Rents?

— Dae ah find _what_ offensive? Now ah feel like he's stringin me along, and mebbe it shows oan ma face cos ah can feel it twistin. He's goat a habit of it, Sick Boy. Ye can put money oan him startin a conversation just tae make a mockery of a person, tae catch them out likesay. I dunno if this is that.

He puts his bottle of beer oan his knee, still holdin the neck like he's tryin tae strangle the thing. — Me, talkin about women like that.

That scoobies us momentarily. Ah put mah hand in a fist and hold it under mah leg n wonder how far he'd go tae make a mockery of us. It isnae as if he'd never be a wanker about me n ma business, n he gives me shite same as he gives tae everybody else, but there's a line, n he kens he shouldnae cross it. At least ah think he does. Ah donnae want to say somethin fer fear of breakin the silence, but ah cannae go on sittin here biscuit-ersed n silent as ah am. Ma voice goes unsure, no more irritated waspishness. — Am no a woman.

— Aye, but. Ye ken.

Ah do ken, n tha's the problem. Ah ken what he means. — Aye. But ah've not goat a word tae say after that. Sick Boy nivir asks about ma business, cos after ah made all ma decisions ah said ah didnae want any questions. He's been alright about that. Only time he ever asked, it was when ah was still at Aberdeen uni n he was visitin ma digs, n he found ma testosterone injection schedule pinned to ma wall n asked does it get me high. Ah told him no.

It's been a spell since ah've had a T shot, though. Cunts at the NHS wouldnae give us any after ah started usin cos ah turned up to a session absolutely bloated on skag. Told me either ah could go tae rehab and get back oan the T, or ah could stop the T. Ah wisnae in the mood for rehab.

— Rents.

— Aye.

— Aye what?

He's goat that look oan his face again, n ah find it hard tae maintain eye contact, so ah turn ma heid away n start tae light a cigarette so ah donnae have tae. — Why d'ye wanty know all of a sudden? Ah ask, instead of any of the other shite ah wanty ask. Me n Sick Boy've been mates since before ah started school, but ah dinnae want tae have this conversation wi him. Ah'd rather fuck a pothole.

— Isnae all of a sudden. Ah just donnae get it.

That's textbook Sick Boy, that is. Ah find maself smiling cos it's so fuckin stupid. — Why shouldye haftae? Isnae your problem.

— So it is a problem, then?

— Course it's a fuckin problem, doss cunt. He digs his elbow intae ma side, under ma ribcage, n ah gie him a hard shove wi the flat of ma palm. — But no that shite about lassies. Ah like women same as you. She sounded like a hoor. Dictionary definition, ah'd say.

— Alright. He's still goat that look, n ah ken he isnae done asking me this shite, but he has a big swig of his beer and doesnae say any more for now. Ah'm gonna wait a minute for him tae change the subject, but a minute's a long fuckin time for no shite to happen, so ah get up tae get maself another beer. — Gie us one, Mark.

Ah give him one.


End file.
